


What Is a Life to Live, That has no Name

by Atol



Series: It Was Always You [4]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: BadBoyHalo is Abaddon, Gen, Good Omens AU, Memory Loss, Paradise Found, Skeppy is only barely referenced, The Fall - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:01:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26978503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atol/pseuds/Atol
Summary: A name is give, a purpose promised.
Series: It Was Always You [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1968790
Comments: 2
Kudos: 71





	What Is a Life to Live, That has no Name

The nameless one with pain still tight in his chest sat at the edge of a lava pit. He had only just dragged himself out from its warm thick sludge, and was staring blindly at his hands, the downy feathers near his wrists. Blood was congealing, flaking away in the surrounding heat. There were others with him, some dried with caked on pieces of basalt stuck to their skin, the smell of sulphur overpowering, mingling with the blood and tears.

He could remember only fleeting details, dark hair brushing against his chest, the soft feeling of white feathers creating a private space. The timber of a voice muffled against his lips. It was just mere morsels, so small they had no taste, only the lingering at the back of his thoughts. The more recent memories, so recent one could hardly call it the past were more vivid. 

The icy terror in his veins as he had felt something within him shift and disappear, as if his very soul had been ripped and spirited far away from his body. The burning bubbling sensation of his feathers catching, grinding against delicate bone and sinew until it had snapped, the smoke choking his lungs as he gasped for mercy. The sick feeling in his gut as he had been shoved down, down, down into the depths.

He watched numbly as one of them stood at the center of it all, a name immediately coming to mind when everything else was sealed under magma. Lucifer. The Shining Morning Star. 

He stood among them, head held high and six broken mangled wings, twisted things that shook with pain behind him. He gave them names, gave them purpose. Told them that they had a role to serve, that they had meaning. Gave them a reason to stand again. A reason to rise up from the dirt and look forward. 

He gave the one still on his knees as if in prayer, the name Abaddon. 

He never knew any other name.


End file.
